MissManaged

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were there,” I said, going back to my photos now that the fright was over. “Go ahead and get some pizza. I just want to go through a few more of these first.”

“Charlotte, we need to talk,” Tobin said, but I was on a roll and didn’t want to deal with him right now.

I shook my head. “In a few minutes. Go eat.”

“No. Now.” My laptop disappeared from in front of me, making me look up at a very agitated man.

“Give me that, Tobin. What is your problem?” I stood and tried to grab my computer out of his hands, but he turned away before I could snag it. “Hey, be careful with that!”

“Charlotte, sit down,” he demanded, finally making me pause and take stock of what was going on. I was jumping around and acting like a toddler who had their toy taken away. That’s what was going on.

I sat in my chair and took a breath while Tobin set my laptop down on the shelf behind me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping to avoid any awkwardness. Hoping that he’d ignore the last five minutes and let it go.

A glance at his expression as he sat across from me at the table told me that was highly unlikely.

“What just happened, Charlotte? What did I walk into?” he asked calmly.

“Well, I was reviewing the pictures I took,” I explained. “I make a first pass through them and sort them into trash, maybe I can do something with part of it, or this might be good folders.”

“And do you need to insult yourself while you do that?” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. Arms that were strong from working on a farm for years, which had hands at the end of them that were equally familiar with hard labor.

I swallowed and took a breath. Although I was tempted to lie to get out of whatever was going to happen, a part of me wanted to find out what he would do. And I really doubted he’d believe any lie I could fabricate, anyway.

“I’m just critiquing my work,” I said, trying to at least deflect. “I need to have a critical eye to make sure my clients’ projects come out looking the best they can.”

“I understand that, Charlotte, but there’s no need to call yourself names.” He paused, uncrossed his arms, and placed his hands on his knees. “In fact, doing that violates one of your rules. Doesn’t it?”

My eyes widened at his admonishment even though I was expecting it, and a strange feeling started low in my belly.

“You weren’t really serious about those rules, Tobin.” I tried another tactic to get out of this, one that was blatantly untrue.

His eyes flared at my lie.

“You know that I was very serious about the rules, Charlotte. We discussed them and you agreed. Didn’t you?”

I felt about two feet tall under his unyielding stare but, strangely, I didn’t feel diminished or less than him.

He wasn’t calling me names or putting me down.

He wasn’t screaming obscenities and threats.

No, Tobin was simply holding me accountable.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Ugh. More accountability.

“Yes, I agreed to the rules.”

He nodded and inspected me for a moment before nodding again. That second nod threw my belly into another fit of butterflies… and something else.

“Go get your notebook.”

I didn’t bother to ask which one as I got up and retrieved it. Of course, he meant the one that held my plan for success. And the rules written on the inside front cover.

“Open it to the next blank page.”

We’d been adding notes to the plan every week when we went over my budget, adding new projects, progress made on current ones, and ideas for getting new work.

I found the page and looked up at him, waiting for whatever came next.

“Your punishment for breaking the rule of speaking negatively about yourself is to write ‘I will not call myself names’ one hundred times.”

“What?” I cried, aghast. “No. That’s silly. I’m not a child.”

“It’s not silly. It’s the punishment I decided on for breaking a rule you agreed to,” he explained patiently. “Maybe if you write it enough, you’ll stop doing it.”

I shook my head while trying to figure out why I was protesting. As punishments went, it wasn’t so bad. Just not what I was expecting.

“Charlotte. Start writing.” His words held a note of warning. One that I didn’t heed.

“No.” The word came out of my mouth before I could stop it. Part of my brain was yelling at me to pick up the pen and do what he said, but another part was standing firm, refusing to make my arm move.

We stared at each other, engaged in a silent standoff, both of us refusing to back down. I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t for him to stand and walk over to me.

He held out his hand, and I placed mine in his without a thought. He pulled me up into a hug that calmed me and disappointed me at the same time. Which confused me.

What did I have to be disappointed about?

I’d won. He’d given in and I wasn’t being punished.

That was a win… right?

My conflicted feelings distracted me so much I didn’t notice that he’d shuffled us over to his chair until he was sitting down and pulling me over his knee.

Over his knee!

“Tobin, wait!” I cried, trying to escape. Somehow, he’d made it so I couldn’t get enough leverage to lift myself off his lap. “I’ll write the lines.”

“No.” A firm smack on my butt had me stilling in place. “You had your chance to follow my instructions. Now we’re going to do this a different way.”

“But I don’t want a spanking,” I whined. Yep. I whined, like a child.

Another smack shut me up again.